


The Next Step

by Demon_bird



Category: The Letter (Visual Novel)
Genre: Everyone is still alive in this one, F/M, FLUFFINESS INCARNATE, Non-True ending, Ok more like the first fic was so depressing and WE NEED SUGARY SWEETNESS FOR THIS GAME IN GENERAL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 06:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12030543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demon_bird/pseuds/Demon_bird
Summary: After the terror of the mansion, there are things about their relationship that couldn't stay the same. So she worried and debated.





	The Next Step

**Author's Note:**

> I Promised the Discord Fluff, so have fluff, and suggestive fluff! *dives into bunker*

For Isabella, noise wasn’t never a detriment overall. Living with the clatter of scooters and people were a part of her life, but her life within the dorms introduced her to a whole new level of chatter. It wasn’t as if she was in the worst housing available, it was merely the very fact that the other tenants were young adults, Emphasis on YOUNG. While the majority were quiet or acceptably loud, there was always those special ‘snowflakes’ who seemed to think that screaming was always default. Then there were those people who relished in their freedom and robbed her of sleep with spectacularly loud music or parties that made a wall vibrate dangerously. Other noises that she didn’t really want to think hard about at the time, vibrations, and just overall crowding. It wasn’t all that bad though, it just slowly began to irritate her over the 7 months since she had moved in. There were new friends, but even then, it sometimes dragged her out of her comfort zone. The number of times they had effectively kicked open her door, made a declaration of doing something social, and throwing her over a shoulder (after making sure that her significant other was nowhere within 5 miles of the room) before dragging her out, regardless if she was still in an oversized shirt covered in paint. Built character they said, but she eventually learned how to at least convince them to let her change, now if only she could convince them to stop carrying her out like a sack of potatoes. Just because she was ‘so freakin tiny’ and his boyfriend found it adorable didn’t mean he should still do it. Ah well, she never did learn how to hold a grudge.

It made her head hurt sometimes, and it didn’t help that everyone on her floor also seemed to know when a certain male came to pick her up or visit. Isabella was always somewhat aware that Ash was considered handsome, but having it bluntly shoved in her face made it hard to not trail off into more troublesome thoughts. She never much worried about her appearance until now; Hard times made food and shelter more pressing then looking like you were the belle of the ball at pointless times, but even she wasn’t immune to the gossiping chatter.  But she persevered and tolerated all the changes, until she was upright confronted by Ashton and bluntly asked her what had been bothering her all this time. Her attempts to get him to drop it only worked for so long, until he finally managed to get it out of her. Granted she thought she held out for an impressive amount of time, forcing him to use a public display of affection and turning her brain to mush effectively with a chaste kiss on the forehead. He had rolled her eyes when she admitted that perhaps she was feeling a bit uncomfortable with things in the dorms, and proceeded to herd her out of the dorm lobby. When they had finally slid into his car, he proceeded to pull her close and made all thought go right out the window.

* * *

She bounced the idea of moving into a studio apartment off of the others occasionally, if only for the slightly better noise situation, but what held her back was the fact it would be another expense on her plate. It wouldn’t be unfeasible, but it meant that it would also take away valuable resources from what she had instead of sending over to her family. Her mother agreed somewhat, though it was less the money and more the security of the situation. As far as she knew, it was safer for her daughter to be in a controlled dorm then in her own apartment again, and it was not like her mother could convince her stubborn daughter to move back home either. Plus add in the cost of buying materials for class, and it had been an easy choice. Until one night someone apparently got the wrong room and had managed to get into her room somehow. Thankfully she wasn’t in the room at the time, but imagine the shock when she opened the door to find a pair of…. Over eager, clearly drunk college students on her bed.

“Ohmy-!” She had slammed the door shut but then remembered that she had been escorted to said room. Ashton hadn’t said much, simply turned her around, dragged her to his car. He told her to stay put before turning back and entering the dorms. A few minutes passed until he returned, looking a little more than irritated, before asking if she was alright and then drove all the way back to Salemwell. A few choice words with Rebecca and she found herself sleeping on a couch, head pillowed on a hard shoulder. In the morning and the afternoons afterward, the argument to move into a more secure place came back with a vengeance. She argued, pouted, and tried to reason her way out of it, but when even Zach had pointed out the benefits and her mother had caught wind of it, she was forced to at least compromise that she would stay in the dorms until the end of her first year, then she’d look for a studio over the break. Pity, she really did like that quilt, but now she needed to burn it.

The run in with the couple in her bed had brought up another question in her head, one she really didn’t expect to bother her so soon. The question of intimacy, of taking that next step quietly buzzed around in her head. While it had been true that they could be considered a couple for a short time, an odd one with an unbelievable beginning, but there was the fact that they had also known each other for five years prior to officially stepping beyond just friendship. Without the blinding goal of paying for hospital bills, it allowed her to realize the feelings that could have been there from the very start. Butterflies and warm feelings that she had ignored came rushing back, and she found that guilt ate at her somewhat. It felt wrong to even think about broaching the subject with him, it was most likely too soon for such things. Her mother always said that she should just wait until marriage, but her older sister hadn’t listened, admitting it as if it was a secret to only be shared between sisters. When she had settled in Luxbourne, it had been slightly alarming just how less restrictive on these things, far more open to the idea. It rubbed off on her, and now she was struggling with herself. The shame and fear of being a ‘loose’ woman fought with the fact that she was oh so tempted. It just spoke of levels of trust and love, but she was not so oblivious to the fact that it was a mostly romanticized version. Plus how would she even broach the subject? Her younger friends had said to simply jump him, one proudly displaying a button from when she had accidentally torn it off a pair of pants. They assured her that she was the oddball, having waited THIS long, but it still didn’t make her any less uneasy.

* * *

There were just so many issues to add on; One being the difference in class. While she wasn’t too concerned with her own appearance, she was clearly aware that the two of them lived in two entirely different worlds. She wasn’t ever really comfortable staying in his flat for long; the spaciousness of the two floors made her uneasy, like if she stayed there too long she’d lower the market value. It must have clearly shown on her face, because Ashton never did take her there much, favoring the cafes in the city and long walks in the park. As frugal as he could be, he still had more than she ever did; His car was worth more than several years of her father’s job. Not that she begrudged him or ever wanted his pity, it was just a very uncomfortable to think about. They had gotten into a few minor spats about it, with him assuring her that it didn’t matter and his opinion hadn’t changed from what he had declared in that cursed attic. The gas alone must have been enough to purchase food for a month, as most high end cars required premium gas unless you wanted to suffer engine problems later on. Another was the relationship itself. While she was happy, happier then she had ever been, she irrationally feared that he would tire of her. Eventually get sick of her quirks and perhaps the trouble that followed her. What would that mean afterwards? It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but she didn’t like the stone that sunk in her stomach when she mulled over it. Bringing it up wasn’t an option, it’d just end up in a fight; even her college friends rolled their eyes, telling her to just get on with it. Let things happen, but it was one of her kidnappers that got through her internal ramblings.

“We’re not that complicated you know. If it feels right, it feels right.” He said with a shrug, before glancing over his shoulder and giving her a goodbye wave before chasing after his own boyfriend, looping one arm around the other man’s shoulders. She mulled over it for a while, before she finally gave in.

* * *

The neighbors had been at it again, playing music so loud that it made her books vibrate on the shelf. Giving up on sleep, Isabella rolled out of bed and turned on her laptop, surfing around for more reference material for her next piece when a message appeared in her messenger program. She was surprised that Ashton was up at this hour. He had no cases that she knew of, so she would have assumed he would have taken advantage of it by now.

 **I had a feeling you’d be up. The assholes being asses again?** She instinctively sighed.

 _Yeah, thankfully I don’t have any classes tomorrow and my last job commission was approved a few days ago, so I’m going to try and get in a few extra hours once it dies down._ The program flashed a few times, as if he was typing and retyping something before his response appeared.

 **You could just come over here.** She bit her bottom lip; on one hand, it was an innocent offer, but on the other, they would be alone. If she read the situation wrong, she could do something damaging. She stared at the screen, watching as he gently prodded her for an answer. Taking a breath, she steeled herself.

 _If you don’t mind?_ The answer was much faster this time.

 **I’ll pick you up.** She turned off the laptop, nervously packing an overnight bag. When that was done, she forced herself to calm down, mentally chanting to herself she was being stupid. It wasn’t going to turn out that way. She smothered the yelp when there was a knock on the door. She had expected him to be there sooner honestly, so it had thrown her off a little. She jumped before taking a calming breath and picking up her bag. Ashton greeted her with one of his easy going smiles.

“You should have gotten on earlier. I’m frankly surprised they haven’t gotten a noise complaint yet.” He cocked his head towards the other door, before snatching up her bag in one hand, and her hand in the other and led her out of her own building once she locked the door. The ride had been normal, with teasing and light banter, but when she stepped into his flat, the nerves came back with a vengeance. Sitting on the couch, she sighed, trying to pass her need to calm herself as relief. But with how sharp Ashton was, he most likely picked up on it. Throwing off his coat, he eased beside her, pulling her into a one armed hug, forehead against her own and noses brushing close.

“There’s nothing to be scared of. You’re always welcome here.” His words washed across her nerves, making her shoulders relax and she melted into his side. They sat there for a while, before he got up, her bag in hand.

“Give me a minute. I just… need to clear up some things in there. Don’t worry, I’ll take the couch.” He rambled off, before moving towards the stairs. Isabella would normally have argued that the couch was fine, but the advice made her pause. Instead, she walked behind him and wrapped her arms around him. He froze, before giving her a look that explained everything. When she didn’t let go, he took a deep breath and gently pulled her arms apart, lacing their fingers together. He asked questions with his eyes, and she gave in. The room was dark, with only the brief flashes of light peeking through the window, but that suited Isabella just fine. She was right, it wasn’t like the stories, but it wasn’t like some splash of cold water, pain and regret. It was more the lack of proper words to describe the sensation, the release. They both fumbled and the touches were unsure, but eventually he stopped, if only to make sure that she was really sure of what they were about to do. She answered with a kiss and the sensation of him suddenly surging forth robbed her of her breath again. There had been no pain, no sense of loss, only him. All the teasing, the sensations had merely been a precursor to this and she accepted everything.

* * *

The morning rolled in and she, predictably, woke up first, confused at first. She felt him pull her in close, wordless mumbles spoken into her hair, and the night before came back with an inhuman clarity. She curled into his arms, her face aflame, before she forced herself to calm down. Shifting a little, she stared at his face, a smile growing at how at peace he seemed. The foil packet on the nearby floor answered another question, though she had to wonder why he had protection in the first place. Knowing Ash, she figured it was just something that they provided at the department. The moments ticked by, before she settled back in, letting herself fall back into slumber, safe in his arms.

The studio she found was a little more than she would have liked, but the kitchen was new and the room was well ventilated. It was built for artists after all, being more function then a living space. A homely bathroom, the ancient clawfoot tub sitting in the corner, while a door less archway divided the majority of the studio from the designated bedroom. The tenant before her had changed the showerhead to be a rather harsh, but she didn’t mind as much. It wasn’t a picturesque apartment, but for her, it was a welcome addition to her life. The dorms were rather restrictive when it came personalization, but here she was allowed to decorate it as she wanted. The floors tended to get cold without throw rugs, but at least she didn’t need to worry about paint stains. The one major splurge she had was one she hadn’t expected, nor would or normally considered, but with the change in their relationship, her normal twin sheets had to go, now replaced with a queen. The bed itself took up quite a bit of room, but her small desk was shifted to the living space, with the dresser finding itself a neat little corner to hide in. She made it her home, but unlike her old dwelling in Salemwell, there were splattering of someone else. Spare changes of clothes, a black mug to contrast her own flowery one. It wasn’t like he was showing up in the middle of the night, like he would do with Zach, it was more like he never left before it got too late to drive back. As always, there were periods where he was never around, depending on the case, but when it did not require his complete attention, Ash would always wander back, slipping back into her home as if to assert his existence. He seemed to enjoy just watching her paint, as if somehow her methodical movements gave him a sense of calm. His excuse was it helped him think, but she just thought he was just being weird.

Isabella slowly began to adapt to his quirks. In the mornings, she would have to nudge, because she always seemed to fall asleep before him. He always gave her a questioning look before, most mornings, letting her slip away and falling face first back on the bed, body shifting to her vacated spot and stealing her place in the pile of pillows. Other mornings, it lead to dangerous times. She had found out, in a rather surprising but pleasurable ways that how he acted at night was far different then in the mornings. There were less words, less teasing and long build ups, but the sudden intensity always left her breathless. It was as if he was always holding back, but with a less active mind, he showed her in the most primal ways how much he treasured her. The dangerous part was that it meant risking the complications of being a sexually active couple. Heated moments meant protection and prevention weren’t always remembered, though at least there were ways around it.  What she mostly hated about those mornings were the teasing, because if he was gentle at night, then in the mornings where all his pent up urges were released. Marianne had joked about it more than once when she caught her gingerly sitting side saddle on a ladder if she was contracted for a job, and let’s not even get started with her classmates. Another issue was that he didn’t like some of her new friends. Granted, she could understand as “Sugarpie”, “Sweetie”, and “Kitten” sounded less like friendly pet names and more like the other kind. Add in the once when he answered her phone for her while she was in the shower, he gave her mother a heart attack. Now her mother always asked if she was pregnant or not. How do you calm a mother down when, “Yes we are… _together_ Mama, but don’t worry! We’re really careful!” just causes more worries? She groaned as she leaned on the tiny balcony as her mother once again reminded her to be careful. The sun had risen over the winter skyline about an hour ago, and Isabella wished that something would happen to make her mother stop. She adored her, but really, she was a grown woman, she knew the risks. Finally placating her mother for a time, she wished her mother well, and hung up, hunching over the balcony. She jumped when she felt the phone being taken away, and an arm snake its way across her stomach. A chin rested on her shoulder and blew warm air against her neck. She smiled, before weaving her fingers over his hand, leaning back into his warmth.

* * *

As problematic as it was, it was all worth it.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> *a dummy sits in her place, the author running for the hills*


End file.
